come gather up your things,
jump in bed my love
here's sweet water if you thirst,
a solid stone to stand on
beside strawberry sheltered banks, new cleaned beds of your dreams,
of sun warmed glyphs and bird wings
now tucked, bussed near breathless, covers drawn 'til dawn
or a moggy old man pulls them back
slips in the night beside you.
sleep well love

come gather up your things,
jump in bed my love
here's sweet water if you thirst,
a solid stone to stand on
beside strawberry sheltered banks, new cleaned beds of your dreams,
of sun warmed glyphs and bird wings
now tucked, bussed near breathless, covers drawn 'til dawn
or a moggy old man pulls them back
slips in the night beside you.
sleep well love

come gather up your things,
jump in bed my love
here's sweet water if you thirst,
a solid stone to stand on
beside strawberry sheltered banks, new cleaned beds of your dreams,
of sun warmed glyphs and bird wings
now tucked, bussed near breathless, covers drawn 'til dawn
or a moggy old man pulls them back
slips in the night beside you.
sleep well love

i should like to write a poem
with "discipline"
but that whole
'cane -
no pain, no gain *cheesy grin*' thing leaves
me cold
stuttering and in search of something warm to slip my
thoughts into
in too
intuitively speaking
seeking comfort over dis
dat now wants to run away wiv a rap sheet, init?
focus
should i beat my muse or just
accuse her ov
unrulio! beHaviour? save her
from disco-ordinated raves or
throw down these worthless rains of wordish babble-mouth
go south?
*looks down into my cocoa*
coco drifts upon the air
her double C's so pleasing; bare
with me since i'm no disciple
Pliny, though, through process praxis
philosophied - au naturalis

i should like to write a poem
with "discipline"
but that whole
'cane -
no pain, no gain *cheesy grin*' thing leaves
me cold
stuttering and in search of something warm to slip my
thoughts into
in too
intuitively speaking
seeking comfort over dis
dat now wants to run away wiv a rap sheet, init?
focus
should i beat my muse or just
accuse her ov
unrulio! beHaviour? save her
from disco-ordinated raves or
throw down these worthless rains of wordish babble-mouth
go south?
*looks down into my cocoa*
coco drifts upon the air
her double C's so pleasing, bear
with me since i'm no disciple
Pliny, though, through process praxis
philosophied - au naturalis

shudda read 'bare with me', since the reference was playing on coco chanel, hence double c's, bewb-allusions et al.... *sigh*

wiki he say pliny the elder had discipline *nods*:

Quote:

Gaius Plinius Secundus (AD 23 – August 25, AD 79), better known as Pliny the Elder, was a Roman author, naturalist, and natural philosopher, as well as naval and army commander of the early Roman Empire, and personal friend of the emperor Vespasian. Spending most of his spare time studying, writing or investigating natural and geographic phenomena in the field, he wrote an encyclopedic work, Naturalis Historia, which became a model for all other encyclopedias.

Maybe I'm taking away more to the poem than you intended but....
You start by talking about discipline then take away the accepted forms of (polite) communication of your thoughts by using vernacular and undisciplined writing/spelling. I took the no pain no gain lines to imply that poetry/writing was an arduous process
unruly muse ... sweet
naked poetry!
I'll shut up now and call for a prosodist "Oh 12 Oh"

Maybe I'm taking away more to the poem than you intended but....
You start by talking about discipline then take away the accepted forms of (polite) communication of your thoughts by using vernacular and undisciplined writing/spelling. I took the no pain no gain lines to imply that poetry/writing was an arduous process
unruly muse ... sweet
naked poetry!
I'll shut up now and call for a prosodist "Oh 12 Oh"

Maybe I'm taking away more to the poem than you intended but....
You start by talking about discipline then take away the accepted forms of (polite) communication of your thoughts by using vernacular and undisciplined writing/spelling. I took the no pain no gain lines to imply that poetry/writing was an arduous process
unruly muse ... sweet
naked poetry!
I'll shut up now and call for a prosodist "Oh 12 Oh"

that about sums up what i was playing (philosophically speaking *grins) with, and trying to show the lack of discipline only to use pliny the elder as a contrast.

i'll send him this in e-mail though he's awol for now, bless 'im. he might get a smile out of it, though.

A poet lingers; a busy man wants to rush away;
the philosophier, leans backs, looks interested.
The forgetful man remembers and becomes busy,
then forgets why he rushed away,
but the poet has his back, quickly becoming a tired man
eag'r to make something out of this shambles.

The quiet man watches them, tired of it all,
pauses, think's about the reason's he rushed away
to write the where of what it's like to be sapient,
all those long hours ago and ponders,
did he succeed or fail?

A poet lingers; a busy man wants to rush away;
the philosophier, leans backs, looks interested.
The forgetful man remembers and becomes busy,
then forgets why he rushed away,
but the poet has his back, quickly becoming a tired man
eag'r to make something out of this shambles.

The quiet man watches them, tired of it all,
pauses, think's about the reason's he rushed away
to write the where of what it's like to be sapient,
all those long hours ago and ponders,
did he succeed or fail?

I love you poorly with these words.
My vocabulary is not
adequate to talk about how
your mind almost makes me forget
that I really want your body
under me, while I (ahem) pound
mindlessly into you. This is
natural, of course, and nature,
being what it is, is not clear
in its intentions, nor should be,
as selection is a random
thing and, anyway I just want
to sleep with you (there—I said it).
Should it be at your place or mine?

The meeting of our midnight
selves is always a dance
along the dotted line
of a road that runs deserted
except by ghosts who silence
the crickets and whose whispered
hold halts my step
toward your side despite my
desire to go along for the ride.
I am often left
alone with only the moon
reflecting tomorrow’s sun
with today’s reminder
that although we share the sky
and the light we are only together
in the night.

The suns light harbours
a dockside dream that is reserved
for those that reside in the night
daymares of times when we are apart
those distractions from the desire to hold you
whisperwords mashtogether
as my breath is yours
together in our wishes

till midnight moonshine run in prohibition country
caught bound and jailed
before I can reach your side
I can see you stand in the silence
reach exceeded by beaded mist
as you breathe your own punctuation
Alone
the sky absent of crickets
full of stars that scream
as day pierces their
light